Book The First: The Fervent Flowerbed
by MarcianTobay
Summary: The beginning of the tragic tale of Young Beatrice, years after the war of the sugar bowl.
1. Chapter 1

**The Fervent Flowerbed**

**By**

**Lemony Snicket**

**Book the First**

**In**

**A Series of Unfortunate Events**

_To Beatrice_

_The flower of my love for you is watered with hope_

_And fertilized with tragedy._

**Chapter One**

There are several reasons to read a book. Some people read a book because they saw it on the shelf and were curious as to it's contents. Some people read a book because they have nothing better to do. Some people read a book because their teacher decided to assign them a reading assignment so that the teacher can take a nap and still report that they are teaching. Still others read a book because their friend recommended it.

If you are reading this book because you saw it on a shelf and were curious, please remember what was once said by a colleague of mine about curiosity as it pertains to cats. Pertains is a word which here means "is deadly". If you are reading this book because you have nothing better to do, that is simply not true. You will, almost assuredly, find that counting to one hundred and back again to zero would be much more fun. If you are reading this book as a writing assignment, then I can assure you that you would be much better off skipping this class until your teacher is inevitably fired. If you are reading this book because a friend recommended it, then please know that they are not really your friend, but someone that is apparently very angry at you about something, and I recommend you apologize immediately.

In none of these cases, however, should you continue reading this book. This book, as you will soon discover, contains nothing but misery, gloom, and suffering. From it's bad beginning to it's enigmatic ending, you will encounter nothing but reasons to weep and stay awake at night. Terrible things happen almost immediately and continue to happen until the end, despite the fact that this story is focused on a kind, wise, intelligent, and reasonably attractive young girl who had never hurt anyone before these wretched events began. So, unless you are the kind of person that delights in reading about horrible events befalling children, please leave this book for your own safety. Also, if you are such a person, go away anyway, as I don't want to supply someone like you with reading material.

Beatrice Baudelaire was a kind, wise, intelligent, and reasonably attractive young girl who had never hurt anyone. At the age of ten, though, this was not a particularly grand accomplishment. Although Beatrice was kind, she was alone. She was alone now, as she had been many of the years of her life. Normally, in one's life, they have either one or two guardians watching over them. Beatrice, as early as she can remember, was different from this, as she had three people protecting her. These three people were very noble people, as she recalled. She could not, however, remember much else. At an extremely young age, Beatrice had been separated from these noble people and forced to survive on her own. While this would be terrible for many people, it was indeed terrible for Beatrice. She had managed to make do, a phrase which her means "not die", by the kindnesses of several people. It happened quite often, though, that she would be parted from these people, and Beatrice would find herself alone again. Alone and afraid. If it happened at night, she would find herself alone, afraid, and tired. If it happened at night during a rainstorm, she would find herself alone, afraid, tired, and wet. No matter the time of day or the weather, sadly, she would find herself alone.

When that time inevitably came, her mind would wander back to the three noble people that had first raised her. She wondered about them, and she wondered how they were doing. It had invaded her mind so much that when she received a note the day before this particular day, she felt compelled to adhere to what it said.

The note had simply stated: "Please meet me in room twenty-six of the thirteenth floor Hotel Preludio at precisely one twenty-seven of the clock in the afternoon, regarding your three former guardians. I will be there at twenty two seconds after this time. E."

She had received the note while drinking a root beer float in a certain cafe elsewhere in town. The note had been on a card from Mulctuary Money Management. Several factors of this event made Beatrice uncomfortable. Primarily, Beatrice was afraid of anyone who chose to enclose only a letter of their name, instead of their full name. Secondarily, she found it odd that someone would time their entrance to the exact second. Tritarily, the note arrived from Mulctuary Money Management, a company about which Beatrice had read a great deal. As I am sure you know, the word great does not necessarily mean "good". It simply means vast, though people do frequently make the mistake of confusing the two. I do not make that mistake. Beatrice had read at least thirteen books that referenced Mulctuary Money Management, but none of them had ever given her the impression that this was a trustworthy place. It had been an unreliable place that had caused her former guardians respectable amounts of distress.

None of this, however, mattered to Beatrice. She could have received a note that ended in "also, I will kidnap you a dangerous criminal", and not even the sight of the missing period in that sentence would have deterred her. She wanted to know about her guardians. She needed to know. That was why she was in this hotel.

It was a dusty and dark hotel. The curtains were torn and thin, scarcely keeping out light at all. Spider webs lined every corner of every object that had a corner. The bed had only one pillow, which had clearly not been washed in years. The lamp was broken, but that was irrelevant as the light switch did not, in fact, function. It was small, and it smelled of old breakfast. Also, the carpet did not match the ceiling.

Yet, still she sat, periodically checking her watch. It had just become one twenty-seven, and she had but twenty-two seconds to wait. She waited and she watched. It neared twenty seconds. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Nothing. She sighed and looked at her watch. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.

Suddenly, the door opened swiftly and slammed into the wall, sending dust clouds into the room and covering the figure entirely. Beatrice lowered her head and covered her face as she coughed. As her head lowered, she could only hear the voice of this dusty figure.

"Sorry I'm late. Terrible traffic."

As the dust cleared, she saw a young man in a black business suit and a bowler cap. He held in his left hand a briefcase that was equally black and blank. Without asking permission, he strode towards the desk and set his briefcase on it. With a swift motion, he opened it, and the briefcase sprung open. In it there were all kinds of papers. Papers among papers. Ticker tapes, report tapes, stock tapes were taped to the sides. Portfolios and postcards were present. Contracts and calendars were carried. Sheets and stamped things were strewn. It looked as if every bit of information on whatever this person did was in this briefcase. Beatrice peered over the shoulder of this person, who was sifting through the briefcase. She tried to discern what he was doing, but to no avail. After a moment, the man turned and looked at her. When he noticed that she was looking in the notebook, he immediately shut the briefcase and stood up, towering over her.

He spook hurriedly, but politely.

"Ms. Baudelaire, what is in my briefcase is top secret information sensitive to many people. If you are intent on examining it, I may have to leave before our purpose is accomplished."

Panicked, Beatrice spoke quickly. "Oh, no, no, no. It's all right. I won't look."

"Thank you."

He bowed mechanically, a word which here means "without any real emotion". He then sat down, reopened the briefcase, and began writing out papers with much intensity. Beatrice sat on the bed, ignoring the dust cloud that emerged when she sat. She was very confused by this person. One the one hand, he was clearly not dangerous. On the other hand, the right hand, he did not seem very friendly. It was hard to trust a person that threatened to leave her without her valuable information. Beatrice decided to change her strategy. She attempted to speak to him with the same politeness that he had shown her.

"Excuse me, but, what is our purpose, exactly?"

She heard a pen hit the table as the man set it down instantly. He stared out the window for a moment. After gathering himself, he continued to fill out forms while talking to Beatrice.

"Our purpose, Ms. Baudelaire, is to fill out the forms that you must fill out. As I am in charge of your account, it is my duty to assist you in filling these forms, as you are clearly to young to do such things on your own."

Beatrice took offense at this statement, and rightly so. It is very rude to assume that someone is not capable of doing great things just because they are young. Several people performed important things at young ages. Mozart composed a noble tribute to astrology at the age of five. Several kings had risen to power when they were less than ten years of age. And, according to less reliable records, two children were capable of resisting a house made of candies and overthrowing their wicked captor. Beatrice knew that his remark was unintelligent, but decided to remain polite. She needed to know what was happening, and she had read before that one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar.

"Excuse me, sir, but you haven't explained anything. What are these forms regarding?"

"They are regarding, Ms. Baudelaire, the issue of great importance of which you are most certainly aware."

Beatrice was dumbfounded again, a phrase which here means "completely confused". She had no idea what this issue was, and now she was getting angry. The man had been condescending and rude. She calmed herself and decided to ask one more time.

"What issue of great importance? You really haven't told me anything."

The man kept writing.

"The issue, Ms. Baudelaire, that has been in the newspaper. I know that you have been expecting me for days. Please do not waste my time by playing dumb."

Playing dumb is a rather rude phrase which means "pretending to be stupid in order to trick people into telling you things that you most certainly already know". It is a technique people do in order to make people think things that are untrue. Beatrice was not playing dumb, and the idea that she was this dishonest and rude upset her terribly. Still, she attempted to ask him one last time.

"Sir, I am not playing dumb. That is insulting idea. I don't read the newspaper, and I have not been expecting. Now, please, tell me who you are and what you are doing here."

The man set down his pen and turned to her. He did not look angry or mean. Rather, he looked frustrated and annoyed.

"Ms. Baudelaire. I suspect that you do read the newspaper. I theorize that you have been expecting me. I hold firm to the idea that you know I am Edgar Poe, and I have unwavering faith in the fact that you know I am here to fill out the forms claiming your right to the estates of your now deceased three guardians!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Deceased, as you may or may not know, is a word that is a synonym for dead, meaning that they have the exact some definition. Something unusual about synonyms, however, is that even though they mean the same thing, people have a tendency to use different words for different occasions. For example, old and superannuated mean the same thing, but are more likely to be used in completely different contexts. Old would be used in the context of "this milk is too chewy to be considered anything but old". Superannuated, on the other hand, would be more likely to be used in the sentence "Superannuated is a very obscure and unused word".

This is the same situation for the words "deceased" and "dead". Dead is typically used when someone is describing a person, place, or thing that has ceased to be full of life. Deceased is a word that seems to only be used on forms and documents, as if the formerly living thing were some number or inconvenience. It is a cold, emotionless word, without life or hope.

But that was the word that Edgar had used. He had abruptly turned to Beatrice and told her that her three guardians were deceased. Effectively, he had told her that they were now names on forms he needed to fill out and nothing more. It was shocking. It was hollowing. More importantly, it was more than Beatrice could take in.

"This is absurd," she retorted.

"Absurd?" said Edgar, turning back to his paperwork. "No, Ms. Baudelaire. Cats juggling jellybeans is absurd. This is very much real."

Beatrice sat on the bed, trying to collect everything that she knew about her guardians. She had an endless supply of questions to ask and had much difficulty deciding the first. For these moments, only the scrapping of a pen across a desk could be heard, as Edgar continued his work. Finally, she came up with a question.

"How do you know they are dead?"

He did not look up from his work.

"I know that they are deceased, Ms. Baudelaire, because I heard it from a reliable source. Additionally, it has been reported in multiple newspapers across multiple cities."

She was silent again for a moment, as she turned this over. She knew, as I hope you know, that just because something is in a newspaper does not mean it is true. She also knew, as I hope you also know, that newspapers can also be correct. Even more mysterious than the reliability of the newspaper, though, was Edgar's source. She decided to ask about this.

"And who is your source, sir?"

"My wife, Rue."

This confused Beatrice greatly, as she did not know how Rue came across this information.

"How did they die?"

"I do not know, Ms. Baudelaire. Mine is not to reason how, mine is to process anyhow. This refers to your estate, in this instance."

This upset her more. This man who sat calmly in her hotel room and changed her life did not seem to care about the details at all. He was formal and uncomforting. He was, in short, the opposite of what she felt she needed at the time. He was, though, the only person that could help her right now. In response to this, she decided to change her questions to ones that she supposed he could answer.

"Did you say 'estate'?" she asked.

"Why yes, of course. I need to sort out all of the forms regarding their estate and its new ownership."

A deep pit formed in Beatrice's stomach. The estate. The fortune, she thought to herself. She was thinking of the Baudelaire fortune. It was a vast amount of wealth that had been in her family for many years. It had belonged to her three guardians for quite a while, and had caused them seemingly no end of trouble. Many suspicious people had wanted the Baudelaire fortune, and many people had died because of this. The fortune, as it appeared, had caused their family great pain and anguish.

"I don't want the fortune," she stated, with a strength and finality surprising for her age.

Edgar stopped writing and once again turned to her with a very serious expression.

"That is a rather foolish decision to make, Ms. Baudelaire. I don't think you understand the value of money. Don't worry. In full time, you will."

He returned to his work and began scribbling away furiously. He then spoke, almost as an afterthought.

"Either way, it was not your decision. It was the decision of your now deceased guardians, who, for some reason, chose not to give you the fortune."

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"You will not be receiving the fortune. It is going to a different party altogether. Did you annoy them?"

"No," she replied honestly, "I did not."

She wanted to ask him what estate she would be receiving, if she wasn't receiving the fortune. When she opened her mouth to ask, however, she could not bring herself to do so. Her guardians were dead. It felt somehow wrong to discuss inheritance just yet. Instead, she looked out the window. There was dust on the window, and drapes blew across it. The view of the city was not unlike the view in her life. While moments ago, when she was standing on the street, the world looked relatively decent and steady, now everything was different. The dust of sadness had been spread across the window of her hopes of finding her guardians again. The drapes of confusion blew across in almost random ways, leaving her with nothing but questions upon questions. Why did her guardians not give her the fortune? Who received it instead? What did happen to her guardians? Where would she go now? When would she be at peace?

At long last, Edgar finished writing. With a final scrape, the pen signed his name to the last paper. He then put the papers back in his briefcase.

"Finished," he stated, glancing at his watch. "It took five minutes and thirty two seconds. It would have been quicker, but you insisted on your pointless questions. Now, if you will come with me, please."

Beatrice turned with a start.

"Go with you where, sir?"

"Your new home, Ms. Baudelaire. What did you think I was writing out this whole time?"

"My new home?"

"Ms. Baudelaire, please consider the obvious. Your guardians are now deceased. You are a child. Children cannot possibly take care of themselves. You will need a new guardian to take care of you, won't you?"

"But, I don't want a guardian. I can take care of myself."

Edgar looked her grimly.

"Ms. Baudelaire, you may feel that way now, but you cannot possibly care for yourself. Children are incapable of such things. Now please, come with me," he responded. Impatiently and unsubtly, he looked at his watch.

"I've been taking care of myself for quite a long time now!"

Edgar looked at his watch again. He seemed to be unconvinced.

"I know for a fact that this is not true and I have no time for your contradictions."

"I'm not contradicting you, sir."

"Yes, you are."

Realizing that there was no point in arguing, she looked around her dusty, lifeless room. All that belonged to her in the room was one suitcase that she had carried with her for years now. She then turned back and gazed out the window. It is a sad fact of life that, sometimes, you are put in a situation in which nothing you do will please you. She did not want to be given to a new guardian. She wanted to leave, find her former guardians, and live a life of happiness and peace. This did, however, seem possible. Her three guardians were now dead. She now needed a new home. There was not much else it seemed she could do. With much reluctance, she turned to Edgar.

"Very well, sir. If there isn't another option, I will go with you to meet my new guardian."

Edgar nodded and led her out of the room. As they stepped in the elevator, Beatrice thought of one more question.

"Sir, what is my guardian's name?"

He pressed the button on the elevator for the lobby floor.

"Lady Audrey."

"Lady Audrey..." she murmured to herself.

She had never heard of a Lady Audrey, and wondered very much what she would be like. Would Audrey be cruel or kind? Would she be absent frequently or always present? More importantly, would Beatrice be safe around her? Beatrice and asked Edgar more questions than with which he was comfortable already, and she felt too scared to ask him any more. The elevator slowly lowered, and, as it did, so did any hopes Beatrice had of happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

On the way to Lady Audrey's house, young Beatrice Baudelaire tried very hard to think about everything that had just happened to her in the last hour. As she climbed into Edgar's horse drawn carriage, she tried to think about how she was, just two hours ago, enjoying root beer floats with a newly found friend. As she rode down the street and through the rest of traffic, she pondered whether she was doing the right thing by going with Edgar. When she passed by the man trying to fix his motorcycle, she meditated on the worry that Lady Audrey would be a noble person or a terrible villain. But most of all, she wondered whether she could trust anyone she had met or would meet today. For some time, Beatrice had been involved with an organization called "V.F.D". The organization, while almost completely gone today, consisted of various people, secretly doing noble things to protect the world from lurking dangers. V.F.D was something her three guardians had been a part of, and she had met a several people involved with this noble group, and, although she had only given the title to herself, Beatrice considered herself a member of V.F.D. The sad truth, however, is that the more often people try to do noble things, the more often they find themselves in trouble for their pain. This trouble had been the cause of many of Beatrice's troubles, and she found that troubling. These troubling troubles troubled her as she worried whether these troubling troubles troubling her would trouble the already troublesome troubles of a new guardian, and she also troubled over whether her new guardian's troubles would be trouble for her troubling troubles, or trouble for the troubling troublers that troubled her. So, in short, she was troubled.  
None of these troubles were helped by Edgar, who insisted on not speaking the entire ride to Lady Audrey's. So Beatrice sat, in silence, wondering what lay ahead of her. I don't know if you know this, but time, like a burglar or a matching sock, can move incredibly quickly when one is not paying attention. It is for this reason that, before she had even realized she was near to her new home, she was actually there. When she looked up, though, she instantly wondered where "there" was. Beatrice found herself in a small, run down part of town with only one road, and plants growing in every direction. There were no stoplights, and no signposts. It was an abysmal place, but Edgar didn't seem to notice.  
"Lovely place." Edgar said, glancing briefly at his watch. "And we got her a full three minutes ahead of schedule. Well, it would be foolish to waste that time here and now. Out you go."  
While Edgar tied up the horses, Beatrice climbed down from the carriage, taking her suitcase with her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the home, or rather, what was left of it. The house was a rather large mansion, dilapidated and crumbling. Dilapidated is a word which here means "ramshackle". The green paint was peeling off of the sides of the house, and the windows were smashed and broken on both sides. Part of the front wall was entirely missing, revealing two floors of rooms, each with their own knick knacks and appliances. The driveway was almost nonexistent, being only moderately cleaner than the rest of the dirt in front of the house. The entire sight transfixed Beatrice, a phrase which here means "caused her to wonder what kind of person would live in a house like this". It didn't seem very noble to allow one's windows to be broken. It didn't seem very noble to allow the green paint to peel from someone's walls. And it certainly didn't seem noble to let a wall go missing.  
As Beatrice pondered these things, she suddenly heard a rather loud and deliberate cough. She started instantly, realizing that Edgar had grown impatient. The two of them headed towards the house, Edgar glancing had his watch constantly.  
Edgar knocked on the front door. There was no response. Again he knocked, but there was no response. Frustrated, Edgar pressed the button to ring the bell for the door, but he heard no sound. While they waited for a response, Beatrice became more and more anxious, wondering who was on the other side of the door, and why they wouldn't answer. It is very difficult to experience something that you fear will be scary and uncomfortable, but it is far worse to ask to wait for it, being left with nothing to do but think about what is about to happen.  
There was a click sound. Slowly, the door opened, and Beatrice and Edgar saw a beautiful woman with long, red, curly hair and a small smile open the door. She was wear a deep green dress that was shaped to look like leaves and vines wrapped around her body, like a giant plant had grown around her and she had been too busy with her hair to notice.  
"Hello?" she said, more as a question than a welcoming statement. First, she looked at Edgar, observing him for a moment. Then, she looked at Beatrice, and her smile grew wider.   
"Edgar Poe." Edgar Poe said curtly.  
"Lady Audrey." Lady Audrey said softly. She then nodded to the Beatrice, who reflexively reached into her breast pocket and produced a small card.   
"Beatrice Baudelaire, Lady Audrey. My card."  
She extended her hand to her new guardian, who took and read the card.  
"Beatrice Baudelaire. Baticeer Extraordinaire. You train bats, Beatrice?"   
"Yes, ma'am." She said, nodding. "At least, I do when I have a bat available."  
"Available?" asked Lady Audrey, somewhat confused.  
"Yes, ma'am. Available. Bats can, unfortunately, be very unreliable and are prone to heading away without return."  
"I believe in that way bats are quite like most people." Lady Audrey said.  
"Indeed." responded Beatrice.  
"Well," interrupted Edgar, checking his watch, "I would love to stay and continue our conversation, but I need to head back to the bank if I am to take advantage of my three minute lead on the day. I assume that you are all set, Ms. Baudelaire?"  
Without waiting for a response, Edgar tipped his hat to the both of them and began to walk back to the horse drawn carriage. It was at this time, for the first time, the Beatrice felt very afraid for what may happen next.  
There are very few people in the world that like to be left alone. It is true of most people that, even the gravest of situations can be made slightly better with the knowledge that one enduring the situation with a friend. And, if a friend is unavailable, a banker. As I, myself, sit and type these letters in the pouring rain, hoping that the water does not wash away these words, my typewriter, or myself, I often wish that I was still in contact with one of my few surviving friends or bankers. Alas, just as I have no one to turn to at the moment, Beatrice had no one to turn to then. She watched Edgar ride away on his carriage, checking his watch as he went. When he was finally out of sight, Beatrice thought that this would be the last familiar face she would see for a long, long time.

"An odd person, isn't he?" muttered Lady Audrey. Beatrice nodded. "I love your scarf, Beatrice," she continued, "where did you get it?"

She was referring, of course, to the bright red scarf that Beatrice had wrapped around her neck. It was rather long for her, with tassels at the end of it, and it was put tightly around her neck several times to compensate for her relatively small stature.

"I inherited it from my guardians, ma'am."

"Ah, yes, them." Lady Audrey sighed. "I'm very, very sorry for your loss, dear Beatrice."

"As am I," replied Beatrice.

There was a brief silence as Beatrice thought about her loss. It was Lady Audrey who broke the silence.

"Well, dear child, do come in. There is a lot to see and I must teach you how to feed the plants before dinner time!"

Lady Audrey then turned and walked through into the main room of the crumbling mansion. With trepidation, a word which here means "worry that the roof was going to fall on her head any moment, crushing her immediately", Beatrice followed.

The inside of the mansion was as destroyed and rotten as the outside. The staircase was broken, with several steps missing. Paintings lay strewn across the floor. The doors that were still on their hinges were open wide. As Beatrice walked through the house, her feet brushed aside books, baubles, and a boomerang. It seemed that anything and everything that one would have consider putting away, hanging up, or nailing down as off its hinges and in the wrong place. Beatrice's heart would have sunk if she had not been distracted by Lady Audrey's response to the environment.

Lady Audrey walked into the center of the main room, seemingly unshaken by her surroundings. Instead, she helped a melody to herself that Beatrice did not recognize. It seemed as if it did not even occur to her that she dwelled in such a bleak and decrepit place, the word decrepit here meaning "gloomy and broken". Sometimes, in order to keep one from completely despairing and throwing oneself on the floor and wailing miserably, it may be necessary to find something hopeful about one's situation. Beatrice wanted to do just this, but couldn't find anything pleasant to say. Finally, she thought of something to say.

"It will certainly be nice to sleep under the stars," Beatrice said, staring up at the missing part of the ceiling.

"Oh, I'm afraid that you won't be seeing the stars for quite a while, dear Beatrice," Lady Audrey replied with a small smile.

This statement sent a shiver of fear through Beatrice.

"Why is that?" she asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Lady Audrey tilted her head, looking at Beatrice as if trying to figure out why she would ask such a silly question. Then she let out a laugh.

"Why, Edgar didn't tell you anything about me, did he, dear child?"

Beatrice shook her head.

"This isn't my house, dear."

"It isn't?" asked Beatrice.

"No, of course not," replied Lady Audrey, "this is."

It was at this time that Lady Audrey blew a whistle, calling in the two most beautiful ponies you had ever seen. With laughter and giggles, Lady Audrey taught Beatrice how to ride one of the ponies, and the two of them spent the rest of their days running through forest and having fun, silly, and perfectly safe adventures, and neither of them ever betrayed the other in a grizzly and frightening way. The end.

This, as you may suspect, is not truly what happened, but I find it occasionally comforting to write happy endings to this miserable story, that I may read them at a later time and end on these endings, pretending that what happened next never happened

But, alas, it happened. It happened the moment Lady Audrey showed that she was standing on a wooden panel in the middle of the main room. With a flourish, she lifted the panel, motioning for Beatrice to come to it. Beatrice did, but, upon inspection, could not see anything except for a large, black hole. Lady Audrey spoke softly.

"Come, dear child. It's quite safe, I assure you."

With that, Lady Audrey lowered herself into the hole with her hands. Beatrice watched as her new guardian sank into the black calmly, until all that was visible was her hands. Then, quite quickly, Lady Audrey let go, and her hands vanished into the black. Beatrice gasped in surprise, wondering where she went.

"Well, dear? Are you coming or not?" echoed a voice from the dark.

Beatrice continued to lean over; trying to discern what was in the darkness. Try as she might, she saw nothing, but she did smell a great deal. There were very many fragrances, both vile and sweet. It was almost overwhelming how many different scents were in the darkness below her. This puzzled her greatly, but she did not quite know what to make of it.

It was she stared over into the darkness that she remembered the words that her eldest guardian said to her one night. It was several years ago, and she could only remember small details of the event. Beatrice thought about when she stood on a mountain, staring into a cave in front of her. The weather was distressingly cold, and her guardians were huddled together under a silver blanket. The eldest of her guardians stared at the cave in front of them, and spoke words of courage.

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear — not absence of fear."

With that statement, the three guardians and young Beatrice headed into the cave.

Beatrice remembered this moment very well. As it ran through her mind, she resolved to overcome her fear.

"Beatrice?" called the voice from the darkness.

"I'm coming," replied Beatrice.

She leaned over the side, lowered herself into the hole with her hands. She watched herself sink into the black, slowly, until all that was visible to her were her hands. Then, quite quickly, Beatrice let go and her hands vanished into the dark. Beatrice took a deep breath, wondering where she went.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Crawling through a deep, dark, tunnel that will most likely lead to one's death is never much fun, and Beatrice's crawl was, sadly, no exception to this case. It was muddy. It was slimy. And, most alarming of all, it had an unusual fragrance. As Beatrice crawled through the tunnel, she sniffed the air. It was a strange and powerful smell. It smelled like honey and rotted leaves, stirred together and served as a meal that one would not like to ever eat au gratin, a phrase which here means "at all".

Echoing throughout the tunnel was a strange melody, which Beatrice assumed was the humming of Lady Audrey. Beatrice tried her best to imagine what could be in this tunnel that would make someone hum so happily, but it was difficult to imagine. Then, at the end of the tunnel, there was a light, shining through an opening. Peering through the opening, Beatrice saw two feet, wrapped entirely in leaves. Beatrice, eager more to leave the tunnel than anything else, finally pulled herself through, and stepped into a large conservatory.

The room in which Beatrice found herself was but one massive room, much like a ballroom in size and shape. A ballroom, as you may know, is a room that does not contain balls. Rather, it contains a great deal of many people in very fine dress, all dancing, eating, and making conversation. A ballroom, when properly filled, is a beautiful scene, assuming that there is a not a woman in a dragonfly suit that is about to bring about her own demise in the hall. Then it is sad.

This ballroom, however, did not contain people or ladies in dragonfly suits.

It contained, instead, a great deal of flowers. The entire room was covered in flowers, growing from every direction. Massive flowerpots, pots that hold flowers, hung from the ceiling. Vines extended from their origin and stretched out across the length of the floor. Beatrice could see, to her left, a massive wall of leaves and thorns. What was behind it, though, she could not see. There were enormous blooms, as large as a small child the size of sack of flour that was oversized. There were very small blooms as well. The soft sound of rainfall could be heard as water ran down each plant, flowing into the soil floor. All of this was visible through large holes openings in the ceiling that allowed in shafts of light. One of these shafts of light, Beatrice observed, was wrapped like a spotlight around Lady Audrey.

Her guardian was standing in between two rows of flowers. Lady Audrey's hand was on the nozzle of a pipe that ran into the floor and ended next to two very dirty bowls. She seemed so distracted by the sight of water running down the plants that she didn't notice Beatrice enter. As Beatrice approached, she could see Lady Audrey speaking to herself so quietly Beatrice couldn't understand her words.

Eager to understand the nature of this unusual place, Beatrice cleared her throat. Lady Audrey immediately held up a hand to halt Beatrice. She continued, to speak to herself. As Beatrice was closer now, though, she could tell that Lady Audrey was counting.

"Twenty-four… twenty-five… twenty-six."  
With a twist of her wrist, Lady Audrey turned of the water. The gentle rush of water ceased, and only a rustling sound behind the massive wall of leaves and vines could be heard. Lady Audrey smiled at Beatrice and spoke quietly.  
"It is very important that I give the flowers the right amount of water, dear child. Please don't ever interrupt me while I am watering them."  
Beatrice nodded politely, but had a question.  
"Pardon me for saying so, ma'am, but are these not just plants?"  
Lady Audrey's face became pale. Her face became very stern as she leaned over and whispered into Beatrice's ear.  
"Never insult what you don't understand, dear child."  
If anyone has ever whispered a command into your ear, you can understand how unsettling this can be. Beatrice herself felt very unsettled. She looked at Lady Audrey, trying to determine if what was said was meant as a threat or helpful advice. Before she could decide, though, Lady Audrey changed the subject.  
"You must never insult my flowers, dear child, because you may hurt their feelings." She had turned again to the flowers, and was examining them closely. Beatrice looked at the flowers, unsure of how to emotionally harm a plant.  
"My plants, dear child, are napping right now, which is why I haven't introduced you. They will awaken very shortly."  
It was then that the flowers awoke. There was a loud rumbling and rustling as the world around Beatrice moved. Slowly vines began to lift themselves. There were many flower buds that had been closed until now opened up, revealing large and beautiful petals of practically every color of the rainbow. The contents of the entire room were alive with movement.  
Beatrice took a step back, frightened. Lady Audrey put her hand on Beatrice's shoulder.  
"And what do you think of them?"  
When the entire room in which you are residing has suddenly revealed itself to be full of large and somewhat terrifying flowers, it can be difficult to find the correct thing to say. Beatrice had, however, been taught at an early age that one should always be polite. So, she tried her best to thing of something to say.  
"They certainly are colorful."  
Several brightly colored flowers turned their buds directly at Beatrice, as if observing her. They quickly stretched out from their base and wrapped around Beatrice's neck loosely and in what resembled a necklace.   
"Lady Audrey?" she asked timidly, a word which her means "frightened that the flowers around her would cause her serious harm."  
Lady Audrey leaned over and looked admiringly at the flowers.  
"How sweet," she cooed. "They like you."  
"That is good to know," Beatrice said, as flowers now began to wrap around her arms. "What would happen if they didn't like me, ma'am?"  
Gently, Lady Audrey pulled several of the flowers off of Beatrice's neck as she responded calmly.  
"If they didn't like you, you wouldn't be alive to ask that question, dear child."   
This startled Beatrice quite a bit.  
"Am I to believe that these flowers would kill me, Miss Audrey?"  
"Look at what they did to my last assistant, Carlo."  
Taking Beatrice's chin between her forefingers, Lady Audrey turned her head to show a mass of vines, leaves, and flowers, writhing frantically. In the middle of the pile of foliage there was, drooping, a long, pale arm.   
Beatrice's eyes widened, but she didn't dare scream or shout, as she did not want to surprise the flowers still attached to her. Lady Audrey walked over to the arm and pulled it from the leaves, holding it up so that Beatrice could see the fluff from a tear in the back of the arm.  
"Yes, dear child, Carlo was so hurt that the flowers destroyed his favorite mannequin that he quit immediately, leaving through the very tunnel through which he first entered."

"What did the mannequin do to offend the flowers?" asked Beatrice.

Lady Audrey examined the arm for a moment, before throwing it back to the flowers, which wrapped around it almost instantly.

"Carlo, you see, was a very rude person. He didn't believe that the flowers were actually dangerous, despite my warnings. So, one day, he took one of his many mannequins and started to make rude gestures with it. My precious flowerbed didn't like this very much, so…"

She trailed off, leaving Beatrice to imagine the rest of the story, which she did.

"Miss Audrey?" Beatrice asked.

"Yes, dear?" Lady Audrey said.

"Is there anything else I should know about the proper way to behave around flowers?"

Audrey smiled at Beatrice in a patronizing way, a phrase which hear means "as if she pitied Beatrice for not knowing as much as herself".

"Be careful." She responded. "Be careful and remember to water them."

"Water them?" asked Beatrice.

Beatrice motioned towards the nozzle she had used before.

"Yes, they must be watered daily, and for exactly twenty six seconds. If they are not watered every day, they would shrivel and die very soon."

At the mention of this, several of the flowers around Lady Audrey's body began to curl and twist, as if the idea of shriveling itself were painful and offensive to them. Beatrice stepped towards the center of the room, onto the soil in which there were no flowers. Beatrice tried her best to stay calm and ask one more question.

"Why, specifically, is the amount of water equated to twenty six seconds?" Beatrice asked, using a word which here means "measured to be twenty six seconds, even though that is a very unusual number to pick".

She had turned her head away to look at the plants around her, but looked back at Lady Audrey, who was petting a large purple hollyhock, which is a type of flower often used for decoration. She was smiling at the flower, as if they were having a pleasant conversation.

"They need twenty six seconds, dear child, because they will feel absolutely starved with twenty five and terribly overfed at twenty seven. Come now, it's time for dinner."

Lady Audrey's response had confused Beatrice, but at the mention of dinner she immediately ceased her questioning. She had forgotten that her lunch at the café that day had been very early, and she hadn't consumed much aside from a root beer float in quite a while.

"And where shall dinner be served, ma'am?"

Her guardian looked around the room curiously, considering each part of the flowerbed in turn. At least, she decided on a specific location. Happily she pointed to it.

"Right there, my dear."

Beatrice looked to where she pointed, but could only see the leaves and flowers emerging from the soil. In Beatrice's past, she had eaten dinners in a great many places, including mountains and tree houses, but she had assumed that, with her finding an official guardian, she would have been able to use a table or chairs. Beatrice tried to sound as polite as she could.

"Ma'am, am I to understand that we are eating on the floor?"

"We are not eating 'on' the floor, dear. Oh, goodness, no!" exclaimed Lady Audrey incredulously, a word which here means "as if that were a silly question".

She walked over to the flowers at which she had pointed and began to pet one of them on the head. She then spoke to it in a whisper so quiet Beatrice could not hear. Two of the flowers nodded, and then they pulled back as if they were beginning a noble deed.

Three very large leaves emerged from the within the flowerbed and lowered themselves the level of Beatrice's waist. Beatrice started, a word which is here used to mean "was shocked that the flowers had presented her a giant leaf for reasons unknown." Lady Audrey, however, did not start, but motioned to the leaf.

"Dear child," she explained. "Do not insult my foliage. Please sit on the seat with which they have provided you."

A request, like a coded message or an extremely warm bowl of clam chowder, can be a very scary thing to accept without first considering the consequences. Beatrice knew that if the seat were stable, which was an unusual idea, she could sit calmly and have a dinner with Lady Audrey that would, no doubt, help her to feel better. If the seat were unstable, however, she would only fall and be hurt, upsetting the flowers and embarrassing herself terribly. Unsure of what to do, Beatrice bit her lip, displaying a habit she had developed over the years.

Lady Audrey looked at her and saw her anxiety. She responded in a tone that was much more patronizing than Beatrice would have liked.

"Darling, I assure you that these seats are perfectly safe. Now, come. Sit so that we may have dinner."

Not feeling like she had much choice, Beatrice sat on the leaf. Much to her surprise, it supported her effortlessly, and Beatrice felt much as if it were a regular seat, if not more green. For the first time since she had been in the hotel, Beatrice smiled. To this, Lady Audrey smiled as well.

"Neither the flowers nor I have any intention of harming you, dear child. We all know how terrible you must feel right now, having lost your guardians. Now, you just stay right there, and I will fetch our dinner."

When one hears that dinner will be fetched, it is quite acceptable for one to assume that dinner will be served from an oven, a kiln, a plat, or a stove. What one does not typically assume is where Lady Audrey fetched their dinner.

Lady Audrey walked serenely, a word that here means "peacefully", towards the nozzle that she had used previously. She picked up the two bowls next to the nozzle, and gently moved them into the floor, gathering soil into them. She then held both bowls up to her eyes, calculating how much she had just put in. Beatrice, alarmed, watched this strange spectacle. From behind the bowls, Lady Audrey's eyes dated to Beatrice.

"Dear, are you very hungry?"

Beatrice sunk back into her leaf and shook her head. To this, Lady Audrey shrugged and poured some of the dirt from one bowl back onto the floor. She then walked over to the three leaves and placed the two bowls on the leaf in between Beatrice and herself, along with two spoons she had produced from her dress.

Her guest, young Beatrice, looked at the bowls hesitantly.

"Ma'am, are we really to eat this?"

"Oh, but of course! Soil is nature's gift to all the world! It has fed our plants for many years, and it has nutrients within it that one cannot find anywhere else. In addition to this, I have added many nutrients to the soil myself to make it even more edible and delicious. Now, please," laughed Lady Audrey, "dig in."

I feel at this time that, as a documenter of these events, it is my responsibility to warn you, the reader of the documents of the documenter of these events, to never eat dirt. Dirt can be very unhealthy ,as it is filled with bugs, insects, and litter from careless people of less noble minds, causing one to become very ill upon eating it. If it weren't for the nutrients Lady Audrey added prior to eating this particular dirt, in fact, it would be just as unhealthy as any other dirt available. As it is very unlikely that you have Lady Audrey's recipe for dirt, I must again advise you to never attempt to eat dirt if you value your health, your teeth, or the look of respect others may give you.

Despite the knowledge of the nutrients and edibility of the dirt that Beatrice had set before her, the orphan was still very uncomfortable at the idea of her dinner. Worried, she decided to speak up once more.

"But, ma'am…"

Lady Audrey suddenly turned as red as the roses next to her. She shouted very loudly at Beatrice.

"Child, I have served you dinner, and it is very rude to ungrateful for a dinner. Now eat."

The flowers around Lady Audrey suddenly thrashed and twisted. Beatrice could feel her seat shake and the see the bowls rattle. Lady Audrey held up her hand to the flowers to call their attention. When they finally calmed, Lady Audrey stared Beatrice in the eyes.

"Please eat now. Neither of us wants to upset the plants further."

This was the first time that Beatrice had seen Lady Audrey show any emotion besides calmness and amusement. It scared Beatrice terribly. Not knowing what else to do, she took her spoon and began to eat her dirt in silence.

There are many things in the world which people find frightening. Many people are afraid of the dark, for example. Others are afraid of ghosts. Many people are afraid that there is a suspicious person hiding in their closet. Still others are afraid of zombies are lurking in their backyard, but that is silly, as it is clearly not true. The most frightening thing to several people, including myself, is the fear of the unknown. For it can be far more frightening to not know of what is you are afraid, than to know what is of which you are.

Beatrice feared the flowers, which she knew would hurt her if she scared them. She was scared of the dirt, which was as terrible tasting as she expected. Above all these things, Beatrice found herself frightened of Lady Audrey, who had just done something unpredictable and scary, leading Beatrice to wonder how many other unpredictable and scary things Lady Audrey would do, and whether she was safe in this house at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The phrase "down in the dumps" can be a particularly puzzling one. It is typically used to mean "not feeling very good at all", but the phrase could only really possibly mean this if dumps, places in which garbage is put, were places that were universally depressing, meaning that they depress the entire universe. As to the best of my research, this is not the case. A dump can be very uplifting to a garbage person, who works in them to make money. They can be uplifting to mice who want to find food very easily. They can also be extremely uplifting to someone who prefers to hold their tea parties their, but my research has not indicated any such person.

Beatrice, sadly, was neither a garbage person nor a mouse, and it had been a very long time since she had enjoyed tea with anyone, much less at a dump. She was down in the dumps, though, because she was very sad. After the first terrible dirt dinner in Lady Audrey's garden, Beatrice's life had not improved much. Lady Audrey taught her how to care for the flowers, a training which included such skills as watering, counting, and not feeling particularly passionate on any given subject at any given moment. These skills took much practice, and it was difficult for Beatrice to learn. Every time Beatrice was scared, the flowers felt uncomfortable and back away, making it impossible for Beatrice to water them. If she was angry, the flowers would become defensive and whip her across the back and face, leaving cuts that made it hard to concentrate on counting. Once, I believe, Beatrice even tried to pretend to be happy once, but this caused the flowers to become suspicious and search her pockets for salt and aphids. As I am sure you can imagine, this made it difficult to feel entirely happy.

Lady Audrey was not one to help Beatrice, either. On the first day of teaching Beatrice how to care for her garden, Audrey would stay with Beatrice, showing her every skill needed in order to both raise a prize winning garden and survive. As the days went on, however, Lady Audrey became prone to taking leave, a phrase which here means "leaving Beatrice alone with these terrifying plants for hours on end". Eventually, Lady Audrey and Beatrice were meeting only for dinner, which was a bowl of dirt, lunch, which was a bowl of dirt, and breakfast, which was a bowl of dirt with toast.

In the mean time, all Beatrice could do as an activity was stare through the holes in the ceiling through which the sunlight came, wondering what was going on outside of her new home. It was a depressing thing to wonder, and all she had besides her morning toast.

One of the most peculiar facts about this world is that a very small item can change the world entirely. It may be a bullet, a rainbow, or a sugar bowl, but it is very frequent that these small items will have large, gastronomic, a word which here means "large", effects on much of everything around it. I note this fact because despite the sorrow I feel at the misery through which Beatrice must endure, I can't help but find it fascinating that all her troubles truly began with a piece of toast.

"We're out of toast." Lady Audrey said one morning at breakfast.

"I can make do without toast," replied Beatrice, staring at the dirt in front of her.

Lady Audrey's eyes widened.

"Dear child!" She exclaimed, "One simply must have toast with their breakfast. If they don't, why, it's simply not breakfast!"

Beatrice laughed immediately. Although Lady Audrey had not made a joke in quite some time, Beatrice was sure that this something she said was in humor. She could not imagine anything being any less like breakfast than the breakfast they were currently eating. When she laughed, however, Lady Audrey's eyes narrowed, as if Beatrice herself had stolen the last piece of toast.

"What is so funny?" she asked.

"The idea that one needs toast for a breakfast to be complete. It's absurd."

"Absurd is a tap dancing turnip. This is nutrition."

Beatrice looked at her bowl of dirt. She realized that this small item could have a gastronomic effect on her. It was, after all, the only food she ate that she enjoyed even a little bit.

"Would you like me to bring us more toast, ma'am?"

Lady Audrey reached into a pocket of her dress and produced a small purse.

"Don't be silly, child. One cannot simply buy toast. It is a delicacy, meaning it is something very special. We must make it from raw ingredients."

"Should I purchase bread for us, then?"

Her guardian's eyes lit up.

"I see you've made toast before! How wonderful!"

Beatrice knew how to make toast very well. One of her former guardians had made toast several times before, despite it's complicated recipe. As you may know, toast is the result of putting bread through heat, causing a form of the Maillard reaction. This exposure to heat converts the starch in the bread to dextrose, altering the taste significantly. The added difficulty of preparing toast is in the high risk level of overheating the bread, which would increase the level of benzopyrene, causing the bread to be carcinogenic, meaning that it may cause cancer, which is a rather unpleasant thing to have. There are many kinds of toast including standard toast, or "toast", French toast, toasted sandwiches, Texas toast, melba toast, friend bread, milk toast, powdered toast, eggs in a basket, tostada, bagel toast, and Kaya toast. Typically, these are served on a toast rack.

But Beatrice knew all of this, as I am sure you did. She had been particularly masterful when it came to standard toast. It was for this reason that she was quite confident in her toasting abilities. To hear this, Lady Audrey was much pleased.

"Take this," she said, handing Beatrice a small amount of money. "And purchase the bread. I have the heating device available down here in my personal room. When you bring back the bread, we may spend the day preparing more toast!"

She said the last sentence with particular excitement, as if people considered spending the entire day making toast to be fun or thrilling. Sadly for Beatrice, though, preparing toast was actually the most thrilling thing she would have done so far that week that didn't have a good chance of killing her. So, she took the money and, for the first time since she had lived with Lady Audrey, walked towards the exit, which was the dark, muddy tunnel through which she crawled to enter.

The tunnel was as filthy as it was the first time she crawled through it, and, as she left the house and walked toward the marketplace in town, she felt uncomfortable in her muddy outfit and dirty red scarf. The walk itself was not fun, either. When Edgar had taken her to Lady Audrey's house, she didn't notice how long the ride was. It was quite a distance, and Lady Audrey spent many hours on the road, a phrase which hear means "traveling on the road".

When she got to the marketplace, she saw a sight she had not seen in what seemed like ages. People. Lots of people, of various colors, clothes, sizes, genders, and religions. The marketplace, a series of stores and carts in the open air of the city square, was absolutely full of activity. It was as hopeful as Beatrice thought it would be. Quickly, she made her way through the marketplace until she found a cart with a sign that read "Toast Ingredients". In the cart were breads of all kinds. Beatrice approached it slowly, amazed at how many breads their were. Even her former guardian had not mentioned this many types of bread. It was all Beatrice could do to keep from grabbing and examining each set of toast ingredients.

"Can I help you?" said a man with a large moustache in an apron.

Beatrice looked at him. Then, she looked back at the bread, still amazed at the wide variety that was present.

"There so many types of bread here!" she breathed.

The man with the apron smiled approvingly.

"Never insult what you don't understand, dear child."

Beatrice laughed.

"Oh, no. I'm not insulting it. I just think that it's incredible! What type of bread do you recommend for toast?"

The man immediately frowned as if Beatrice had said something wrong.

"Basic Toast? Well, let me see what I can do for you."

He began rummaging, a word which here means searching, through his breads, determining which would be the best for basic toast. As he was searching, a very soft, female voice, whispered from behind Beatrice into her ear.

"The world is quiet here."

Beatrice stopped moving. The phrase "The world is quiet here" can mean multiple things. To you, I am sure, it means "this would be a lovely place to read a book or learn." To Beatrice, though, it was a coded message that meant "I am a member of V.F.D, and I am trying to contact you." As Beatrice understood it, anyone that said that phrase knew of Beatrice's situation, which was surprising as she had not contacted anyone in weeks. She toward around anxiously, and saw a woman with hair as long and black as a pitch-black night. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she wore a dress that was a bright white. Standing next to her, Beatrice immediately became aware of the mud and dirt on her body, clothes, and hair. Beatrice spoke quietly.

"What did you say?"

"The world is quiet here."

The woman looked around, as if checking to see if there were enemies around. She then stooped low to Beatrice's ear and whispered again.

"My name is Lucinda, and you are in grave danger."

Beatrice was at a loss for words, so Lucinda continued to speak.

"Lady Audrey is not who you think she is. She is not a noble person. She is a villainous person that wants your fortune. She knows that you are rich, and she is waiting for the right time to kill you."

There is a phrase that goes "blood ran cold'. While one's blood cannot safely run cold, it means to suddenly become very, very scared. I explain this phase now, as I cannot possibly think of another way to describe how Beatrice felt. She searched for words, thinking about all she had seen.

"But she's been protecting me. She's been teaching me how to care for her flowers."

Lucinda knelt down and put her hand on Beatrice's shoulder.

"We've been watching you for some time. By we, I mean my associates and me. Trust us. Lady Audrey isn't trustworthy. She is only refraining from harming you until she figures out how to get your fortune. She can't hurt you in front of the flowers, as it would upset them greatly."

Beatrice thought about all of this. Lucinda reassured Beatrice.

"Haven't you ever wondered where she is going everyday? That flowerbed is not that large, yet you hardly ever see her. Why is that?"

"She goes into her private room."

"But what is in there?" Lucinda asked.

Beatrice became quiet again. In all the time that she had been living with Lady Audrey, she had trusted her. It was for this reason that it never occurred to her that she might be planning something wicked. It was a difficult idea to manage, and Beatrice didn't know if she believed it. Still, it seemed hard to ignore Lucinda's sudden warning.

"I don't know," said Beatrice, "she seems nice."

A smile crept across Lucinda's face. "Sometimes someone that seems nice may actually be mean and selfish. You are going to learn that several times as you get older."

Beatrice looked at the bread seller, who was putting a loaf of bread into a paper bag. Lucinda nodded and spoke.

"I will make you an offer. It would not be very noble of me to kidnap you against your will, even if it were for a good cause. Take this."

From her dress, Lucinda took a white ribbon and offered it to Beatrice.

"We are always watching you. When you realize that Lady Audrey is not a noble person, tie this to the front door of the house. That evening, we will come and rescue you."

The young girl looked at the ribbon for a moment, before taking it. When she did, she immediately thought of one of her former guardians, but wasn't entirely sure why she did. She tucked the ribbon into her dress where no one would look.

Lucinda smiled and stood. She turned around to leave. Before she did, however, she spoke.

"Enemies are everywhere, Beatrice. Be careful."

Almost immediately, she was lost among the crowd.

"Your ingredients, ma'am," offered the bread seller behind her. He played with his moustache as he handed her the bread. She thanked him, offered the money Lady Audrey had given her, and began to walk back home.

The walk home was, as one may suspect, as long and tedious as it was the other way around. As Beatrice walked, nighttime began to fall. As she walked through the dark, Beatrice thought.

Beatrice thought about the ribbon and Lady Audrey. She didn't know what to do. On one hand, though, it seemed that if Lady Audrey was revealed to be a noble and trustworthy person, all Beatrice had to do was throw away the ribbon. Still, questions lingered in Beatrice's mind. Why would V.F.D. think that Audrey was a villainous person if she wasn't? If Audrey was a villainous person, what exactly was her plan? Beatrice hadn't bothered telling Lucinda that she didn't have a fortune, but was all but certain that Lady Audrey knew that Beatrice had nothing of real value.

By the time she arrived home, it was very late in the evening and Lady Audrey could not be found. She could be heard snoring, however, and Beatrice concluded the flowers had already been watered. She placed the bread on the breakfast table, and stepped onto an open patch of dirt. She calmed herself and whistled the low and soft whistle that Lady Audrey had taught her. Large leaves slowly swooped from the tangle of leaves and blossoms, scooping up Beatrice. They held her high above the floor, and another leaf rose and wrapped around her as a blanket. Beatrice lay in her bed, fingering her ribbon, until she quietly fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

There are times in everyone's life in which they must make a very difficult decision, such as letting a loved one live or die, or whether one more piece of fudge cake is really an appropriate choice when on a diet. These can be very difficult decisions, as not matter which of the decisions one makes, they will most likely regret it as much as not, because one can never know what the other decision would have accomplished, and they are forced to spend their entire life wondering and never knowing what could have been.

As I stand in the room that once housed Lady Audrey's garden, looking at the wilted leaves and darkened flowers, trudging through inches of mud and ruined lunches, that I am forced to make a decision. I must decide whether to stay and investigate the tragedy that stay here, hoping to gain more knowledge as to what happened here by examining the body of the person that died in this very garden, or I may flee swiftly, ensuring my safety. While my most people would choose to flee, including myself, I must remember that I made to Beatrice, and continue to investigate this scene, stepping over the soaked and moldy bread and moving past the broken cages.

Beatrice was faced with a decision even more dangerous than cake or death. Beatrice had to decide whether to tie the white ribbon around the door, telling Lucinda to come and rescue her from Lady Audrey. What worried her, though, was that Lady Audrey didn't appear to be completely villainous. It discomforted her greatly, but so did stale cheese, which one would hardly be able to call villainous. On the other hand, Lady Audrey did shout at her sometimes, like the dinner at her first night in the flowerbed. It was a difficult decision, and Beatrice was racked with anxiety as she thought about it.

More troubling still, there was the mention of the private room. Lady Audrey did have her own private room, and Beatrice didn't know what was in it. As I am sure you know, not knowing something can quite often be more unsettling than knowing it. After Lucinda's warning, Beatrice would watch Lady Audrey walk into the private room, and stay there for hours on end. Beatrice didn't know what she was doing, but it became very frightening indeed.

That afternoon, after Beatrice had finished her morning chores of watering the plants and soothing them, she secretly watched Lady Audrey enter her private room. Beatrice motioned to a rather large plant behind her and sat on its leaf, sitting suspended in the air. Her eyes were on the room in front of her, hidden through thick walls of leaves, blooms, and roots. There was a silence in the room as she stared at the door. She was thinking about her warning of the room. She was wondering whether Lady Audrey should be feared or liked, when Audrey herself suddenly emerged from the room. Beatrice was so surprised that she jumped back. The flowers were shocked at this sudden movement and leaped back themselves, sending Beatrice falling into the moist earth below her. Lady Audrey ran over.

"Dear child! Do be careful!" She helped Beatrice up to her feet. "You shouldn't sit on the leaves like that if you don't intend to stay. If you aren't careful in this garden, you can be very hurt."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Beatrice said. She began to wipe the dirt and mud off of her dress. She looked at her red scarf in dismay.

"What were you doing there?" Lady Audrey asked. "You shouldn't have been up so high without being careful."

Lady Audrey looked at Beatrice inquisitively. Beatrice opened her mouth to speak, but then realized that telling Lady Audrey about Lucinda could be a very bad idea, if Lucinda was speaking the truth. She looked away.

"I was just thinking about… my other guardians."

Lady Audrey reached out and touched Beatrice's cheek. "Dear child, I know how hard it is to lose someone so close to you. It can be hard." Lady Audrey smiled at Beatrice. "I must leave for a little while. Do try to be careful. I will be back later this evening."

"Yes ma'am," Beatrice nodded.

The guardian smiled at her and placed her hand on Beatrice's chin.

"Behave, dear child," she said. "The world is a dangerous place for those that don't."

And with that statement, the Lady walked towards the exit, and began to crawl out of sight.

Beatrice watched as Lady Audrey's figure disappeared into the darkness.

"What am I to do now?" Beatrice asked to no one in particular. She looked at the secret room. Temptations, dear reader, can be very frightening things, because, as much as one knows that one may find safety in avoiding them, one can almost certainly find relief by giving in as well. Beatrice, like so many of us with curiosities and fears, needed a relief, a word which here means "knowing whether Lady Audrey was a dangerous and villainous person". She looked at the flowers and asked quizzically, "You wouldn't tell Lady Audrey, would you?"

The flowers shook in a way that may well have meant "We won't tell", "You shouldn't go in there", or "How can a plant be expected to understand English?", but Beatrice couldn't be sure.

Beatrice, frightened, decided to walk towards the room. She stepped towards the room with growing anticipation, a word which here means "fear that she was about to discover something terrible." As she walked, she because more and amore frightened, terrified that something was going to stop her way. She the heard a strange sound, like a scared mouse. She stopped running and looked around her. The flowers were moving around her. She realized at that moment that her running must have frightened the plants. Their vines were tense and blooms all pointing at her.

She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. As is typically the case with deadly and emotionally distraught flowers, Beatrice decided to be calm. Slowly she walked the final steps to the secret room. What stood before her was a giant wall of leaves and branches. Beatrice thought hard. She had seen Lady Audrey use the door here before, and she was trying to think of where the opening was. She could not, however, find it with her eyes.

With yet another deep breath, Beatrice placed her hands in the branches and began to feel around for the opening. Her fingers became cut and her hands became scratched. She gasped when the different thorns graced her hands, cutting apart her gloves. After what was, according to my research, more than forty-three seconds of searching and less than fifty-seven, she found the door. She looked at the flowers, which all continued to stare at her with great anticipation. Beatrice took her third deep breath, and pushed open the door, seeing for the first time what lay inside.

It is at this moment, reader, that I must tell you something about bravery. Bravery is not to do something one knows one can do. Bravery is to travel into unknowns, knowing that what is there may or more than likely will harm you, but deciding to do it anyway.

Beatrice, the subject of my works and my dear niece, is far braver than I am. For I fear that if I were encountered with such a moment these days, I would almost certainly run and hide, just as I ran and hid when I discovered that someone had placed a certain something in my office not too long ago.

As she opened the door, she saw a strange room filled with marvelous and unusual things. There was a desk with papers and notes scattered across it. An eagle's feather stood in an ink well, and various dresses made of leaves, buds, and occasionally thorns, were hung in a closet made out of the hollowed out base of an enormous flower. Affixed, a word which here means "hung", to the wall was a rack with several different types of soil in several different containers. On the floor of the room was a carpet made of petals that looked completely unstained.

The entire site was almost too much for Beatrice to bear. She stood, looking at the room. It wasn't until she had fully taken it in that she became aware of the scratching and rattling sounds coming from the back of the room. Beatrice fixated, a word which here means "stared", at the back wall, waiting for what was making the sound to present itself. The sound grew more and more fierce, and more and more violent. Then, without warning, it stopped.

Beatrice took several slow steps towards the back wall of the room. The scratching sound started again. She stopped, and so did the sound. Beatrice took a deep breath, her fourth in an hour, and reached for the back wall to search for the door.

It is at this moment, reader, that I must tell you something entirely different about bravery. That is that bravery can often mean opening one up for being harmed in ways one did not expect. For example, if one were to be trying to prove someone's guilt in order to get them arrested, one would think themselves, but it would probably not occur to them that they themselves might be arrested. The same can be said for one who is bravely baking a cake for a dinner party, only to have a burglar sneak in and steal all but three of the candles, moments before the guests at the party sing a monotonous and boring song.

These are both good examples of bravery leading to one being harmed in ways unexpected. I submit to you, though, a way that has not yet been commonly considered an example of being unexpectedly harmed or surprised. For as Beatrice looked for the door to the scratching sound, one might expect that she then, again, hurt herself on the branches of the walls. One may expect that she opened the door, the scratching sound was the same cake burglar, trying to lure Beatrice into a trap. One may even expect that the eagle who lost the quill so many years ago that made Lady Audrey's pen may come back and blame Beatrice for the theft of his feathers, before one expected that a hand was placed firmly on Beatrice's shoulder, pulling her backwards into the flowerbed as she let out a yell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

It is customary, much of the time, for one to take a break half way through a story. This is called an intermission. As this tragic tale takes thirteen chapters to tell, the beginning of chapter seven would be more or less the most accurate place for an intermission, and I highly recommend you take one at this moment. Also, despite the fact that most intermissions are between ten and fifteen minutes, you may find it even more relaxing to take a five year intermission, in order to forget the woeful things that you have seen so far, and prepare yourself for the misery that lay ahead. With contemplation, I am sure you will discover that there are a great many things that one could accomplish in a five year intermission that would be quite enjoyable.

One could complete five years of college, giving them the right to put a piece of paper on their wall that says 'I know more than you do, even if I don't'. One could go to cooking school, learning how to prepare several culinary masterpieces, such as tiramisu, crudités, or shanklish. One could even decide to merely sleep in for one thousand, eight hundred and fifty books at the rate of one book a day.

Any one of these activities would be far more delightful or joyful than reading what happened after Beatrice was pulled back from the secret door in Lady Audrey's room, which is an incident I must now describe, regardless of how much I desire to learn how to prepare shanklish instead.

Nevertheless, Beatrice was indeed pulled back from the door, yelling in surprise and fear. Unable to see the hand that was pulling her, Beatrice could not imagine who would be doing such a thing, as no one else was in the flowerbed, to her knowledge. Quickly she fell out of the rooms, scratching her arms on the doors and walls as she attempted to regain her balance and cease being dragged. It was useless, however, as the person behind her was much stronger than she was. When she was pulled out of the secret room all together, her shoulders were grabbed and she was turned face to face with the mysterious person, whom she was terrified to learn was Lady Audrey.

"Lady Audrey!" gasped Beatrice. "What are you doing…" Lady Audrey spoke before Beatrice could finish her sentence.

"I forgot something in my room, child. Whatever could you have wanted in there, in the first place?"

"I… I…" Beatrice was at a loss for words, for, when one is doing something as shameful and dishonest as sneaking into a bedroom without permission, there are often no words to say.

Lady Audrey looked throughout the room, attempting to learn if anything had been altered.

"Child," she asked, "What were you doing in my room?"

"I… I was looking for something."

"What, exactly, were you seeking?"

"I would very much prefer to be left alone right now," pleaded Beatrice.

"Did you go through my premade dinners? You could have just requested one," Lady Audrey asked, pointing at the jars of soil.

"No, ma'am," said Beatrice, annoyed and anxious.

"Were you trying to put on one of my dresses?" Lady Audrey signaled to the dresses of brambles and flowers. "I don't believe that they would have fit you."

"Ma'am, please allow me back to my bed," pleaded Beatrice, attempting to keep her cool, a phrase which her means 'not let her emotions out, despite how difficult it may have been'.

"Is it possible that you were trying to take my eagle quill? I wish you'd leave it alone, as it is a souvenir from-"

"No, I wasn't trying to take anything!" Beatrice interrupted.

---- At this point I must apologize. My research into the incidents of Chapter 7, the rain drops, white ribbon, and adamant flowers is not yet complete. I archive here, with the promise that, very soon, I will alter the pages accordingly.

The World is Quiet Here. ----


End file.
